


John's Night Out

by PipMer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk John, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Romance, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15484362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipMer/pseuds/PipMer
Summary: John rarely gets drunk these days, but when he does, Sherlock is there to take care of him.Written for the Watson's Woes July Prompt: "I swear to drunk I'm not God".





	John's Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the Watson's Woes July Writing Prompt: "I swear to drunk I'm not God". So I wrote a drunk Watson :D
> 
> This is the first writing I've completed in many weeks, just a little ficlet that I hope will jump start other writing projects. Written in an afternoon, quickly and with no beta. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thanks to Ariane-Devere for use of her transcript here: https://arianedevere.livejournal.com/43794.html

 

A giggle threatened to escape, but John pressed his lips together and, for good measure, clapped his hand over his mouth. His other hand was kept in contact with the banister as he resolutely concentrated on climbing the stairs. He hadn’t been this drunk since his stag night, so many years ago. He should have known he could no longer hold his liquor as well, being on the wrong side of fifty these days.

But when James had agreed to make a rare appearance in London for John’s birthday, John couldn’t resist trying to relive some of the glory days that the two of them used to revel in during Afghanistan. Being encouraged by Mike, Greg, and Bill certainly hadn’t helped matters any. Before midnight John had found himself three sheets to the wind.

Ah, well. It wasn’t like he had much chance these days to fully let loose. Being a full-time assistant to the world’s only consulting detective, as well as a full-time father, didn’t leave much room for that sort of thing. He couldn’t feel too guilty about tonight’s lapse, given its rarity.

He only hoped he could sneak into the flat and climb under the sheets without waking up said consulting detective.

Oh who was he kidding. Sherlock would be just as likely to be wide awake studying something under the microscope as he was to be keeping their bed warm. At least Rosie was at the age where she had a regular sleep schedule, so she most likely wouldn’t be the reason if Sherlock was still awake.

When he got to the top of the stairs, John gently pushed open the door to their flat. He winced as the loud ‘creak’ that had been a mainstay for several years announced his arrival. To his surprise, the entire place was cloaked in darkness. The familiar shape of the Belstaff still hung from the coat rack. Sherlock must be in bed, then.

Sighing with relief, John tiptoed towards the bedroom. Once asleep, Sherlock slept like the dead. John should have no trouble --

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, John.”

John yelped. “Jesus! Sherlock, what are you doing sitting in the dark?”

“Waiting for you. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, but it seems I’m two hours too late.” A shape detached itself from the chair and slowly walked towards John. Two piercing eyes glittered as they swept over John from head to toe.

To his horror, John burst out, “I swear to drunk I’m not God!”

Sherlock lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed? I should say not.”

“M’ sorry. I know I was gonna be home by 11, but the boys -- I haven’t seen James since…. since my wedding, actually...”

“And how is the Major these days?”

“Good! Fine. He’s got a… a... “ John stabbed his finger at Sherlock. “You know.”

“Major James Sholto’s got himself a romantic partner. So he finally got over you, then.”

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock smiled. The feel of his hands rubbing up and down John’s arms was very soothing. In fact, John could probably fall asleep standing up, as long as Sherlock kept touching him in some way. He was so lucky. He had Sherlock, and Sherlock loved him. Sherlock could take care of him tonight, make his hangover go away tomorrow, and then they could properly celebrate his birthday. Along with Rosie and Mrs Hudson. John’s chosen family. Yes.

“Did you have a good time with your… friends?” Sherlock asked as he guided John into their bedroom.

“Yessh… oof,” John pronounced as his jumper was lifted over his head.  Without him knowing exactly how, the next thing he knew he was ensconced comfortably under the covers, clad only in vest and pants. His eyelids were very heavy. Was he supposed to check on Rosie? No, Sherlock had that covered. Rosie would have gone to bed hours ago.

John sighed happily as he felt Sherlock slip in behind him and draw him back against his chest. As self-absorbed as Sherlock naturally tended to be, when it was important he could be quite the solicitous partner. He had been that way since the beginning, but John had only recently taken notice of that fact.

 

_“Are you all right?”_

 

_“Yes, of course I’m all right.”_

 

_“Well, you have just killed a man.”_

 

Yes. Since the beginning.

John drifted off into pleasant dreams of foot chases mingled with domesticity. Tomorrow he would have to deal with the physical consequences of his night out, but for now… John Watson was comfortable and content.

 


End file.
